


Things Aren’t Always As They Seem

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Dean Winchester, Common Cold, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Post-Hell Trials Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sick Character, Sick Sam Winchester, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Sam hasn't slept in a year, so first order of business when he gets his soul back...his immune system crashes. Dean takes care of a very sick emotional Sam but can't tell him what went on during the past year.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	1. Back Together

Dean pulled up at Bobby's house and climbed out of the Impala with a gallon of milk in hand. He climbed the stairs and headed into the living room to find Bobby reading. He had no idea that Bobby actually read besides the old lore books, but apparently he could read for fun too.

"What are you doing," asked Dean in surprise. 

Bobby looked up from his book, quirking an eyebrow. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're reading, but I know that you don't read," joked Dean as he set the milk down in the fridge and walked over and plopped down next to Bobby. "So, where's Sam?"

It was almost an unwritten rule that at least one of them had to be with Sam. Ever since he got his soul back both of them had been cautious as to how this would turn out. That's why they didn't leave Sam alone for too long. They didn't want the wall to come down and no one to be there.

"He's sleeping," answered Bobby cautiously as if he knew exactly how Dean would react if he heard that.

Sure enough, alarm bells went on in Dean's head as he looked over to Bobby. "He, what?! He hasn't slept for a year and now that he's got his soul back he's sleeping during the day?”

"Son, I'm sure that he's just tired." He looked into Dean's eyes to see before he sighed and closed the book. "But, if you're so concerned then go and check on him."

Dean gnawed on his lower lip before he shrugged. "Yeah, okay. I'll be back," he announced as he stood up and walked up the stairs and to the spare bedroom where Sam had been staying. Dean was down the hall and Bobby spent most of his time downstairs. Dean was beginning to think that Bobby didn't sleep.

Dean pressed on the door and saw that it wasn't closed. He crept in and saw a Sam shaped figure under the covers. It looked like they were completely buried under the covers. He couldn't be cold since it was sweltering hot in the room. Something had to be wrong. Sam would've thrown off all the covers by now.

"Sam," asked Dean as he crept in.

He got no response. He came in closer and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the covers back from Sam's face and tried to move his long hair from his forehead. He pressed his hand against his forehead and drew back in shock. Sam was burning up!

"Sam," whispered Dean as he shook Sam's shoulder through his plain white t-shirt. "Sam, wake up."

Sam snuffled hard as he woke up. He lifted his head before he looked over to his brother in surprise. "Deadn," he whispered in surprise, his voice sounding raspy and laced with congestion.

"Damn, Sammy. What's going on? Are you feeling alright," Dean asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question just based on Sam's wheezy breathing and congested speech. 

Sam thought for a moment as if the question was a difficult one to answer. Dean had thought that Sam was a little sluggish, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was him being sick or not. Sam did have a little trouble cognitively after he got his soul back, but something was different and definitely off.

"Sam, you hear me," Dean asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him.

Sam looked up in surprise as he sniffed heavily. "I'b fide."

Dean could barely understand him at all. He stifled a groan as he looked around. Of course Bobby wouldn't have any tissues, but they did have toilet paper. "I'll be right back. Hang tight," Dean announced as he headed out of the room and into the bathroom. He pulled off a roll of the toilet paper before he headed back to the room. 

He was about to walk into the room when he saw Sam's head bow forward with his breath quickening. His head thrust down almost automatically and in quick succession.

"Huh'ITcshSh! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'TcshShshSh!"

"Bless you," exclaimed Dean quietly as he walked in to find Sam sniffling and rubbed at this side of his nose. "Ready to admit that you're sick?" 

"I'b nodt sig," argued Sam defiantly.

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure, of course," he replied as he stretched out his hand with the toilet paper in it. "Here. Blow your nose. I can hardly understand you."

Sam looked beyond frustrated, but Dean wasn't going to soften on this. He wasn't really used to having Sam around, let alone Sam with a soul, so he was going over what this could mean. He knew that Sam was getting sick and he couldn't blame his immune system. He had been with Soulless Sam for a year and he hadn't seen him so much as sniffle, let alone get sick. Now it seemed like his body was catching up with him and not in a good way.

Sam eventually took the toilet paper from his brother and turned away from Dean and blew his nose quietly. Once he was finished, he set it aside and laid back down in the bed. He swallowed a few coughs that seemed to bubble from his chest. 

That was enough for Dean. "Tell you what, how about I check for fever and then we'll see where we stand," Dean suggested.

That was what they used to do when Sam was younger. If he had a fever then it was time to admit defeat about being sick, but if not, then Dean would leave him be. Dean would usually lie about the reading on the thermometer if he knew that Sam was sick, but Sam was too old to fall for that now.

"Deadn, I'b fide. I'b judst tired," Sam argued as he rubbed the palms of his nose against his sinuses.

Dean rolled his eyes as he headed back to the bathroom. He rummaged around before he actually found a thermometer. He walked into the room and waved it around ever so slightly. "Look what I found? I think that this was probably here from when you and I were sick the last time we were here.”

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thadt's disgusting," Sam grumbled.

"I washed it off, dude. Don't be a wuss! Now, open your mouth," ordered Dean as he came toward Sam's mouth with the tip of the thermometer.

Sam moaned before he opened his mouth and allowed the tip to be threaded into his mouth. He sat up partially so that he could breathe easier and wouldn’t risk coughing on Dean in the process. Him and Dean just sat there waiting until it finally beeped. Dean took it out of his brother's mouth and read the digital output.

"101.3. That's a fever, Sammy," Dean pointed out as he set the thermometer aside and looked at his brother. "Now that we got that out of the way, how do you really feel?"

Sam sniffed deeply and looked down, coughing afterwards. "Nodt greadt," answered Sam with a tiny shrug. "Nodt greadt ad all."

"I'm sure that you don't," answered Dean as he looked at him awkwardly. He wasn't really sure what to do. He hadn't been around Sam in what felt like forever, not to mention a sick Sam. He just didn't think that he could help him the way that he used to.

"Deadn?"

Dean turned and looked at him and frowned. "Yeah, Sammy."

"Why ab I so sick," asked Sam almost in surprise.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not so sure," he replied as he sucked at his bottom lip. He couldn't just tell Sam that he had been soulless for an entire year. That couldn't happen. "I think that just coming back from hell has your immune system crashing. Figures it would happen, huh? It must be because of that immune system of yours."

"Huh'ITcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'IthsShhSh!"

"Bless you," exclaimed Dean as he looked around the room. "Um, hang tight. I'll be right back. Let's see if Bobby has anything tissue-like."

Sam scrubbed at his nose with his wrist, nodding vigorously. Sam growled in frustration as Dean headed out of the room and down the stairs two at a time. He made it to the bottom where he saw Bobby's duffle packed with a few rifles. 

"Bobby," called Dean in surprise.

Bobby walked in from the kitchen and raised an eyebrow. "Ya need somethin'?"

"What's with the luggage," he asked as he pointed at the duffle.

"There's a small hunt a few hours from here that I said I would help out with. Why? Ya need something," he asked as he looked at the stairs behind him. "Sam still sleeping?"

"Actually Sam is sick. I was right. Something was wrong," Dean exclaimed.

Bobby seemed a little bit more than a little surprised. "Sick? Like a cold?"

"Something like that. He has a bit of a fever and he's sneezing a lot," Dean tried to explain as he looked around. "That reminds me. Do you have any tissues or something like that?"

"I don't keep that shit here," he grumbled. "You're better off giving him a bandana or something."

Dean stifled a moan. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed as he looked at his feet.

"You gonna be okay if I take off? If you need me here then I can stay.”

Dean smiled. Bobby had been their biggest and only supporter at time. However, Dean couldn't ask him to stay when he knew that he had to leave. Besides, taking care of his sick and sniffly brother shouldn't be that hard, right? Sam did almost whatever Dean told him to do ever since he had gotten his soul back. Dean wasn't concerned at all.

"No! We're be fine, Bobby, I'm sure," vowed Dean as he smiled. "Besides, Sam and I can catch up and I can see what's going on in that head of his."

Bobby huffed as he grabbed the duffle and threw it over his shoulder. "I don't think that you want to, boy," confessed Bobby, patting Dean on the shoulder. "Just call if you need anything. I know how Sam can be when he's sick."

There was a deep sigh from Dean as he went over to Bobby's supply of bandanas and picked up a bunch. "Don't worry about a thing," Dean told him as he started back up the stairs. 

They both knew that this was going to be a long couple of days.


	2. What Do You See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can take the man out of the Cage, but you can’t take the Cage out of the man.

Dean headed up the stairs and was about to open Sam's door when he heard rambling. 

"No. I'm not going back there! You can't make me! Stop it!"

"Sam," Dean called as he rushed into the room and looked into it, peering around to see Sam standing shakily by the bed, yelling at the wall. "Sam, what are you doing?"

Sam coughed painfully into a loose fist as he leaned heavily against the bed, his large body almost crumpling. He closed his eyes as he breathed heavily through his nose. His nose was running as well and Dean was hoping that the liquid on his shirt was sweat and not snot.

"Sam," Dean snapped.

Sam's head darted around as he looked at his brother. "Dean," he asked questioningly as his eyes appeared shadowed in the faraway look in them and his breath started hitching. His nostrils flared while his head shot down to his chest.

"Huh'ItschsSH! Huh'TcshSSh! Huh'ItcshSh!"

Dean rushed forward and pressed the bandana in front of his face with his breath still hitching. "Easy, Sammy. Brea—“

"Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH!"

"Breathe," finished Dean as he lifted Sam's large hand and clamped it over his face so that Dean didn't have to.

Sam took the bandana in his own hand and sniffled heavily, sucking in a deep breath and buckling forward once more.

"Huh'ITcshSh!"

"Shit, Sam! Bless you, if you're done," Dean exclaimed impressively.

Sam lowered his bandana from his face so that he could see his brother partially. "Shuddup."

"Sorry, Sammy, can't understand you," confessed Dean good naturally as he grasped Sam's arm and pulled him back over to the bed. "Blow your nose and let's get you back to bed."

Sam was about to slump down when something seemed to click in his brain. He spiraled around and looked at Dean in a panic. "Dno, dno! I wandt to stay width you," Sam begged.

Dean seemed to understand a little bit about what Sam was saying. He just couldn't understand why Sam wanted him to be with him so much. Sure, he had just gotten his soul back and that might have something to do with it. But, there had to something else as well. 

"Okay, okay." Dean tried desperately to calm his brother down. He went to touch his back, but Sam immediately shied away. He almost glared at his brother, breathing heavily through parted lips. Dean tried not to be offended as he ran his hands up and down his jeans awkwardly. "How about I set you up on the couch downstairs while I do some research and you can watch some TV? That sound okay?”

"Bobby," asked Sam almost in fear.

Dean shook his head. "Bobby has a case. He's not here. Is that okay?”

Sam didn't answer right away. He gulped as he ran his tongue over his lips. "Yes," he eventually croaked, lifting the bandana to his nose and continued to rub vigorously against it.

Sam grumbled to himself as he switched hands and used his finger to rub against his nose instead of his bandana. That certainly wasn't like Sam. Sam wasn't exactly afraid of germs so to speak, but he wasn't fond of spreading them either. The fact that his hands were being covered in a thin line of slime wasn't like him at all.

"Sam, you okay," asked Dean.

Sam gave a sniff just as his nostrils twitched and flared open while his breath hitched. His eyes started to flutter and Dean sighed as he grabbed the bandana quickly and held it to his brother's face. Sam seemed a bit surprised, but he wasn't making any motion to help either.

"Huh'ItcsSH! Huh'ITShShsh! Huh'TcshShsh!"

"Bless you," Dean sighed as he allowed Sam to take it from him and rub it at his pinkish nose. "With that we should probably get you downstairs, okay?"

Sam didn't object as Dean stretched out a hand to help him stand. But, at the last moment he turned away and stood up on his own. He staggered ever so slightly and Dean looked at his still outstretched hand. Sure, Sam hated asking for help, but he never completely ignored him. There was something completely different about Sam. Dean just didn't know what or how to address it.

Instead he followed Sam down the stairs and into the living room. Sam plopped down on the couch and stretched out with his back slightly arching. He sniffled as he rubbed his hand against his nose. He continued to sniffle for a few moments until Dean finally came down the rest of the way down the stairs and over to his brother, but not before he had gotten another bandana. He walked over to his brother and threw it down.

"Use this instead of your hand. I think that that will help," Dean told him.

Sam took the bandana in his hand and moved it around before he set it aside. "D-Dno, thag you," Sam told him with a shake of his head.

"How come, Sammy," Dean questioned in surprise. This was certainly not Sam. 

Sam screwed up his face as he sniffed hard. "Rough," Sam snapped as if Dean was foolish in asking. "Too rough."

Dean nodded slowly, his mind reeling. "Okay, Sam. We'll try something else," Dean grumbled as he thought what might not be so rough. He couldn't come up with much since everything was practically rough in Bobby’s house. It wasn't like Bobby had tissues, and if he did, they wouldn't be the soft kind. He had no idea what Sam wanted and or needed and Dean didn’t want to make anything worse.

"Alright, how about some toilet paper? That's softer, right," he suggested since Sam had used it earlier and hadn’t seemed to mind it.

Sam thought for a moment as he turned to look completely away from Dean. His eyes rounded as he stared into the nothingness. Dean came in front of him and snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face.

"Hey, snap out of it," snapped Dean as he looked at his brother. "Your fever isn't that high. What's wrong?"

Sam blinked his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled in embarrassment as he gave a powerful sniff with his nostrils flaring with each breath. "Dodn't feel right."

Dean nodded his head in an effort not to get angry at his brother. He felt awful and he couldn’t fault him for it. "I'm sure that you don't, but I don't know how to help you with it."

Sam didn't seem to know how to help himself either. He just kept shifting and looking straight ahead at the nothingness like he saw something. An idea popped into Dean's head. "Sammy, what do you see?"

Sam screwed up his face as he sniffed. "I-I see, Lu-Lucifer," he gasped as he tried to stand.

Dean leaped in front of his brother and pressed his hands against his shoulders and thrust him back down. "No you don't," he panted in an effort to calm his thrashing brother. "He's not here, Sam! It's just me and you. What did he do to you?"

That questioned seemed difficult for Sam to understand. He rocked back and forth on the couch like he was oblivious to Dean actually being there. "He used to put things in me. There were large hooks that seared my flesh! He talked to me. He hurt me and tried to kill me over and over and over again."

Dean could only imagine what it was like to be the object of Lucifer’s and Michael's games and it was probably not fun. Unfortunately, he couldn't sympathize as much. He was tortured, sure, but not as much as Sam was. He also felt like Sam's fever combined with whatever crap had leaked from that damn wall wasn't helping either. 

"I know that it freaks you out, Sam. Trust me, it freaks me out too. It sucks! But, we'll get through this. You just have to focus on me, okay," Dean asked as he reached out and grasped Sam's hand. He squeezed it hard to try and get him to focus.

Anger almost showed on Sam's face as he ripped it away from his brother, breathing heavily. His eyes fluttered ever so slightly before his head flew forward and Dean just managed to jump out of the way, but not before a fine mist sprayed part of his hand.

"Huh'ITcshSSH! Huh'ItcshSh! Huh'ITcshSH!"

"Bless—“

"Huh'ITcsh! Huh'ITcshSH! Huh'TIcsh!"

"Damn, Sam! This is going to be a sneezy cold, huh," Dean sympathized as he stretched out a hand to run it through Sam's long hair.

Sam pulled away fearfully as he lifted his head and gave a powerful sniff. He raised the back of his hand to his nose and almost tried to push back the slime back into his nose. It wasn't working to his liking and he looked up to Dean for help.

Dean didn't have much besides the bandanna until he went to the store, so it was going to have to do. "Here," Dean instructed as he lifted the bandana despite Sam's protests. "I know that you don't like it, but it's better than nothing, right?"

There was a questioning look in Sam's gaze. He finally took it and rubbed it against his nose before he turned away from Dean and blew harshly. Once he was finished, he cleaned up his face and leaned back, shivering powerfully.

"Let's get you a blanket." Dean looked back down and saw Sam trying to claw at his own arms. "And a sweatshirt, huh? You're probably cold."

Dean was starting to inwardly panic. Sure, he had noticed Sam start to disassociate, but it was never this bad. He could still have a conversation and treat him like an adult. Here he was panicked and just not the little brother that Dean knew and loved. Something was wrong, something was missing. But, he would deal with it to the best of his ability. That's all that he could do right now. 

He walked around the kitchen like a chicken with his head cut off before he realized what he was supposed to be doing. He needed a blanket and a sweatshirt for Sam so he started up the stairs. He hoped that Sam wouldn't get into any trouble while he was gone. It was strange to think of his brother that way, yet, it was also comforting to have to worry about him again.

Dean quickly pulled a blanket from his room and grabbed a sweatshirt that Sam had always worn before Hell. He headed down the stairs and saw Sam trapped in one of his flashbacks again. He was thrashing against the couch with both fists pressed against the side of his face. He snuffled loudly when he breathed while his nose ran freely. It was a truly horrifying sight if Dean wouldn't have been used to his brother's nightmares. Things hit him hard whether he cared to admit it or not.

"Hey, Sam," called Dean as he rushed over and set the blanket and sweatshirt aside. He panted hard and rocked back and forth, despite Dean trying to steady him. "Sammy, look at me."

"Huh'ITcshsh! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ItcshSh!"

At first sneeze Dean bucked back and looked at his sniffling brother in front of him. He sighed as he handed him back the bandana that had been sitting beside him. "Here."

Sam took it bashfully and rubbed it against his nose. "S-Sorry," he stammered.

"It's alright," Dean chided before he noticed the tears. They ran freely from Sam's eyes and surprised showed on his cheeks. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Sam hung his head with the deepest shame etched on his face. "I coudn'd save hib, Deadn," Sam cried.

Dean sat down and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. He rocked him back and forth with concern in his eyes. "What are you talking about? Who couldn't you save?"

"Adab," answered Sam hoarsely, sniffing hard and trying again. “Adam.”

Dean shook his head swiftly, eyes deep with understanding. "You couldn't have saved him, Sam. It wans't your fault. None of this your fault, I promise you," Dean tried to reassure since he wasn't sure if Sam was even listening to him by the way that he kept zoning out. Only the sound of his sniffling usually brought him back.

Dean went to get up to fetch the blanket when Sam grabbed his arm and nearly yanked him back. "Stay," he begged.

"Alright, tell you what. I'm going to get some some newspapers, get you all bundled up, and then we'll watch TV on the couch together, alright," Dean asked quietly.

Sam thought about it for a moment before he snuffled mightily. "Okay," he panted.

"And blow your nose! I'm not going to have you sniffing like that during the movie," Dean chided sternly, even though he only half meant it.

Sam took it seriously as he folded the rough bandana over his nose. He blew his nose as Dean came over to the small dining room table and picked up the newspaper that Bobby had brought. It was a little different staying at Rufus's cabin, but everyone was getting used to it.

Dean came back and brought one of the end tables in front of him while he sat down. He turned and grabbed Sam's sweatshirt and helped his brother force his long limbs into it and over his shoulders and chest. Once they finished, Dean wrapped the blanket around Sam’ shoulders in an attempt to warm him up. That didn't appear to be working, but Dean could never be sure. He was sure that Sam's sense of feeling was a little different since he got back from Hell.

Dean turned on the TV as he flipped through the channels. "Let's see, we have Law & Order, NCIS, the cooking channel, Star Wars—“

"Star Wars," croaked Sam with interest. "Star Wars."

Dean smiled as he set the remote down. "Just let me knew if you need anything, okay?"

Sam was out like a light ten minutes later.


	3. Slogging Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is still learning to deal with Sam being back and Sam is still trying to function back in the world.

While Sam slept, Dean grabbed his laptop and began to furiously research everything that he could. But, this wasn't about monsters or anything supernatural. No, this was all about what was going on with Sam in his mind.

He found numerous PTSD websites that explained nearly every symptom that Sam was having. But, it didn't tell him what to do with a hell-traumatized brother. Hell was unlike anything anyone else could ever experience on earth, so there had to be different measures taken. Dean was probably the best suited for it since he had been there before, but that didn't mean that he knew exactly what to do for his brother. Sam had been in the Cage. There was nothing to help ease that trauma. 

Sam suddenly began to stir, mumbling a bit under his breath in his sleep. His legs kicked against the ground since he was sitting almost sideways. His face suddenly contorted ever so slightly as he turned his head almost completely into the pillow so that Dean can't see his face.

"Sam," Dean questions in case Sam was awake.

"Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ITCsshSh! Huh'TcshSH!"

Dean heard small sniffles after that and guessed that Sam was awake. He stretched out a hand and rubbed it against Sam's leg. "Hey, buddy. You awake," he asked.

Sam grumbled back while he slightly straightened. His hair seems almost matted to his face and his breathing was wheezy and congested. A small stream of something clear and wet ran from one of Sam's nostrils, but he appeared oblivious to it.

Dean grabbed the bandana and stretched out his hand toward his brother. He rubbed at his nose and Sam made no notion of moving. Once he was finished, he set it aside and ran his fingers through Sam's hair in an effort to wake him up the rest of the way. He wanted to make sure that his fever hadn't risen any and that his flashbacks were kept at bay.

"Come on, Sammy. I think that you've slept enough. Open up your eyes for me," pleaded Dean as he nudged Sam's shoulders once more. 

Eventually Sam opened one eye and gazed over at his brother. "Deadn," he whispered. 

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. How are you feeling," asked Dean as he touched his hand lightly to Sam's forehead.

Sam pulled backwards automatically and sat completely upright. He scrambled away from his brother with wide unblinking eyes. Dean looked down at his own hands in shock. He had just told Sam who he was. He had no idea why Sam was acting this way. Sure, he had been jumpy after Hell, but not this much.

"Sammy, you with me," asked Dean gently.

Sam looked blankly at Dean as he started to cough painfully. His head bowed as he lifted a fist to catch the harsh coughs that tore from his lungs. Dean scooted over to him and rested a hand on Sam's back in an effort to calm him down and ease the coughs. He ran his hands up and down Sam’s back as Sam’s coughs started to finally taper off. He nodded slowly as if telling Dean that he was okay.

"That's a pretty bad cough you have there, Sammy. How did you manage to get so sick so fast," inquired Dean jokingly.

Sam sniffled as he rubbed at his nose with his shoulder. He pressed upward against the tip of his nose with his wrist before he buckled sideways once more with a few more wet and harsh sneezes.

"Huh'ItcshSh! Huh'TCshShsH! Huh'ITcshSH!"

"Bless you," Dean exclaimed as he quickly looked around for the bandana since Sam's wrist was still pressed against his nose. Sam whimpered in embarrassment as Dean found the rough bandana and pressed it almost against Sam's nose. Sam took the bandana immediately and sniffled hard, coughing once more.

Sam croaked once leaned back, letting out a fresh volley of coughs. They shook his large frame and it confused Dean to no end how Sam could be this sick so fast. But, he would have to do whatever he could to look after Sam just like before.

"Alright, Sam. I can't have you just sitting here and getting worse," Dean sympathized as he thought hard. The one thing that he wanted was to get to the store, but he knew that he couldn't leave Sam alone. Taking him was also a risk. However, he would rather have him with him then not.

"Hey, Sammy. Do you think that you can get changed so that we can come to the store," he asked hopefully.

Sam looked over to Dean and nodded his head slowly. "Okay," he mumbled.

Dean clapped Sam's shoulder gently since he had a feeling that Sam was going to become intolerable to touch. Then, he drew away from Sam and helped him take off the blankets. "Do you think you can manage upstairs by yourself?"

Sam thought for a moment before he nodded. He stood up slowly, back arched in a long stretch. He took a staggering step forward and Dean leaped forward to catch him, but Sam shied away. He looked at Dean over his shoulder like Dean was the enemy. "I godt id," he whispered fiercely.

"I know that you do," Dean grumbled as he drew back dejectedly. "Just come down when you're ready. I'm going to make a list of what we need."

Sam coughed as he headed up the stairs, shaking his head as he lumbered upward. Dean watched him for a few moments before he drew away and rubbed a hand against his forehead. He turned back to the table and sat down, ripping a piece of newspaper from the bulk. He found a pen laying around and scribbled down what he thought Sam might want or need. They didn't have a whole lot of money right now, but Sam couldn't just continue to get worse while Dean watched. He would do anything in his power to help Sam and this was the only way that he knew how for the moment.

It wasn't long before Sam came down the stairs slowly. He appeared to be dragging as if every step was painful. He was constantly looking around as if he was being hunted. Dean desperately wanted to remind him that they were safe in a house and that Hell was far from either of their memories, but that wasn't the case. For Sam it still seemed real and Dean couldn't understand why.

"Ready," Dean asked.

Sam's eyes seemed to glow as he nodded slowly. He followed Sam to the door apprehensively. He had a different sweatshirt on now that was wrapped around his shoulders. He wouldn't look exactly at Dean, but Dean guessed that he saw something besides Dean in the house. He would have to try and get Sam to talk about it later, preferably when he was hopped up on cold medicine.

The two of them headed outside and Dean helped Sam into the Impala. Sam stretched out in the passenger seat and ran his fingers down the upholstery as though trying to convince himself that this was real. He sniffled heavily and felt the itchiness spread through his nostrils before he shot forward so that his forehead almost hit the dash.

"Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH!"

"Bless you," exclaimed Dean as he closed the door behind him and dove around the car in a search for napkins. He finally found some in the glove compartment and handed them over to Sam. Sam took them gingerly and just stared at them. "What's wrong?"

Sam frowned. "Rough," he replied as he frowned at his brother.

Dean stifled a sigh. "Well, it's either that or your sleeve so you had better make a decision," Dean grumbled as he pulled out of the lot and down the dirt road until he finally made it to the paved road. It wasn't long until they made it to the the nearest store that would probably have everything that they would need.

Dean parked the car and was about to get out when his attention turned to Sam. "Do you want to come in or are you staying in here?"

"Goig in," answered Sam as he rubbed his nose roughly with the side of his nose.

Dean supposed that it was probably best if Sam was with him. He sighed as he climbed out of the Impale with Sam following. He clustered so close to Dean that Dean wanted to snap at him to give him his space. But, clingy Sam was always a possibility when he was sick. That was something that Dean hadn't missed while Sam was soulless.

They headed into the store and Sam immediately began to wander. Dean grumbled as he rushed to grab his brother by the shoulder and pull him backwards. "Come on, Sammy. Stay with me," urged Dean as he nearly yanked Sam aside.

The two of them started to wander down the isles almost aimlessly. Dean finally stopped at the medicine isle and started to look around for exactly what might make Sam feel better. However, not being with Sam for a while, or at least the real Sam, had left Dean with a little gap in time. He would have to do his best since Sam was clearly different.

There was a small sniffling sound as Sam rubbed his hand furiously against his nose. He opened his eyes wide and looked at Dean as if Dean could solve all of his problems. Dean couldn't help but smile when he looked at his little brother. "Stay right here and I'll get you some tissues. That ought to be better than your fist, huh?"

Sam said nothing as Dean looked around through the isles until he found what he was looking for. He picked up the softest tissues that he could find and brought them back to his brother. He almost dropped the tissues when he saw Sam sitting on the floor with his back to the medicine. He rocked back and forth with his fingers threaded through his hair as he coughed painfully. His eyes were fixed on something in front of him and Dean grumbled loudly.

Dean settled beside his brother and desperately tried to calm him down. "Hey, hey, hey," whispered Dean as Sam's eyes tried to look away from Dean. "It's me. It's Dean. It's okay. It's okay. Just relax. You're with me in the store, okay?"

"Deadn," Sam questioned.

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, me," he echoed as he pulled a bit at Sam's chin in an effort to focus his attention. "Just you and me. That okay?"

Sam looked up and gulped with his eyes turning transfixed. "Sam, what else do you see," questioned Dean.

"Huh'ITcshSH! Huh'TcshSH! Huh'ITcshSh! Huh'ITcshSh!"

Dean flinched as Sam's head buckled toward him. He felt the warm mist spray his shirt and part of his arm. Dean sighed as he grabbed the tissue box and ripped it open. He pulled out a bundle of tissues and pressed them against Sam's still twitching nose. Sam took the tissues from his brother, sighing darkly. “Bless ya, Sammy. That's some cold you have. Let's get you up and out of here as soon as possible."

Dean stretched out a hand and helped Sam stand. Sam staggered under his own weight as he stretched out his hand to one of the hooks that hung on the wall. Dean rushed forward and helped Sam stand. "Okay, big guy. Which medicine do you want?"

After they picked out the medicine, cough drops, and some other things that Dean thought that Sam would want, Dead lead him over to the checkout. Sam sniffed heavily and swayed back and forth in line. Dean couldn't help but sigh as he pulled Sam into the isle. "Let's go, Sammy."

Dean set their things on the conveyor belt before he pulled the boxes of tissues from Sam's hands that he insisted that they get. Sam just lumbered there aimlessly until Dean pulled Sam forward. He had him stand at the end of the register so that he could see the items coming down the belt.

"Is he okay," asked the cashier cautiously. She was a younger women with blonde hair and green eyes.

Dean looked over at his brother and nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's just a little under the weather is all. He gets like this," explained Dean as he handed the women some folded up twenties and hoped that it was enough. It wasn't like he really had time to work thanks to all that had went on with Sam as of late.

The women counted it out, gave him the change, and bagged his items. Dean grabbed them from her and nodded his appreciation before he turned to his little brother. Sam wasn't exactly wandering, but he wasn't all there either. Dean just wished that he knew what was wrong with his brother and what he could possibly do to help.


	4. Through The Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to deal with a feverish and hallucinating Sam.

Dean drove back to the house and climbed out with the medicine in hand. He looked over to Sam and saw him struggling to get out of the car. His eyes partially blinked as Dean came over to the other side and helped Sam the rest of the way out of the car.

"Okay, let's go," chided Dean gently as he helped his brother forward.

Sam groaned as he walked to the house, shaking off Dean's hand abruptly. Dean tried not to let Sam know that he was frustrated as he slumped his hand back and lumbered into the house. He set everything on the table and watched as Sam staggered over to the couch. He fell down, coughing painfully.

Dean looked through one of the plastic bags until he found the DayQuil. He grabbed it and walked over to his brother. "Hey, I think that I have something that will help for that," Dean told him in the most cheery voice that he could possibly muster. He dangled the medicine in front of his face and smiled.

Sam grumbled to himself as he looked over to Dean. He stopped shaking as he blinked his eyes. "Deadn?"

The creeping of his old self seemed to be showing. Dean couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, Sam. It's me. Are you okay?"

Sam mumbled something before he rubbed at his nose with the end of his sweatshirt. It turned even redder and more irritated with every touch. "Itches." He sniffed heavily and grimaced. "Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'TcshSHsh! Huh'ITcshSH!"

"You really have to warn someone when you do that," Dean pointed out as he went back over to the counter and grabbed the tissue box. He brought it over to Sam and set it down on the small table beside them.

Sam immediately pulled a bundle out and blew his nose with an embarrassing honk. Once he was finished he slumped backwards with his mouth partially open as he breathed loudly. He rubbed at his nose once more and growled in frustration.

"Careful or you're going to pull off your nose," joked Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shuddup!"

"At least you're back," Dean pointed out as he broke the seal of the medicine and started to pour it into a cup for the exact dose that Sam needed.

Sam tilted his head in confusion. "Whadt?"

Dean inwardly cursed. He really hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it was too late now. He had to go for it. "It's just that you seemed a little off, like you were here, but not here."

There was a deep sigh as Sam lifted his hands and rubbed against the side of his temples as if he had a migraine. Dean leaned back beside him and frowned. "Sammy, you okay?"

"I'm fine, just trying to figure out what's real and what's not. I'm sorry if I've withdrawn or anything," Sam apologized as he sighed loudly.

Dean wasn't expecting that. He thought that it might be something like a fever or something like that. Him actually seeing things from Hell was not what he wanted to hear. "Is it just flashbacks?"

Sam thought for a moment before he nodded. It was best to have Dean think that then anything else. "It's not that bad. I can handle it," Sam assured as he leaned forward and grabbed the tiny cup of medicine and drank it down. He grimaced at the taste and he immediately started cough.

Dean jumped to his feet and headed to the counter. He found some juice that Sam had been drinking for the past few days. Dean poured both of them glasses and brought it over to his brother. "Drink."

Sam took a few feeble sips. The pain in his throat intensified and he was forced to set it aside. He rubbed against at his nose while he slumped back down. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Don't mention it. Do you need anything else," Dean asked.

Sam thought for a moment and shook his head. He started to lay sideways as he rested his head on the side of the couch. He yawned loudly as he shivered and snuggled deeper into his sweatshirt. Dean grabbed the blanket on the side of the couch where he had left it and draped it over his brother. "Here. That good?"

Sam nodded slowly with his eyes already closing. "Yeah," answered Sam tiredly as he drifted off. 

Dean sighed as he turned on the TV on low so that he could watch it and still listen to Sam breathing. He knew that it was stupid, but the fear that something might happen to him was still fixed in his mind. He tried his best to ignore it.

Dean felt a bit better now that Sam was relaxing comfortably, but he couldn't shake the fear that something more sinister was going on. He just couldn't place his finger on it exactly. He knew that Sam told him about the flashbacks, but it had to be worse than that. There's no way that Sam would act that way normally.

But, there was nothing that could be done about it now in Dean's mind. It wasn't like he could have a conversation with Sam about it. Dean decided to just let it go for now and not to worry about it until Sam gave him something to worry about, which he probably would soon enough. He sighed loudly when he noticed that Sam was stirring ever so slightly beside him, kicking out the covers against him.

"Sam, Sam, wake up," Dean urged.

Suddenly, Sam shot upright and nearly forced Dean off of the couch. He sputtered painfully as he coughed as he looked aside and held his breath. "Stay away from me," he roared loudly.

Dean had never heard Sam scream that loudly before, and at nothing at that no less. He shook his head as he looked at his brother in terror. "Sam," he asked.

Sam jumped off of the couch and rushed into the kitchen to where they kept the steak knives. He grabbed the closest one and curled his fingers around it before he stabbed the air in front of him wildly. He was jolted sideways and Dean held his breath as he watched him. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. He would've jumped in if Sam's behavior wasn't so erratic and unpredictable.

"Leave me alone! Please! I'm not there anymore! Leave me alone," rasped Sam as he looked around with his nose running freely.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he tried assess the situation as much as possible for the time being. He didn't want Sam to perceive him as a threat, but he couldn't have him aimlessly waving a knife around either and trying to strike at imagine things. It just wouldn't work. Now he felt like he didn't have a choice. He had to engage him or things could take a turn for the worse for both of them.

Dean stepped out so that Sam could see him with his hands raised. "Sam."

Sam turned and sniffed hard with his eyes narrowed as if he couldn't focus on Dean. He started to walk toward him with a firm grip on the knife. 

"Sam, stop," ordered Dean.

Sam almost snickered. "You think that you can fool me that easily, Michael?"

"Michael," echoed Dean before it sunk in exactly who Sam thought that he was. "I'm not Michael. I'm Dean! I'm your brother," he reassured.

Sam turned around so fast that the knife almost caught Dean on the arm. "Stop lying to me," he seethed as he quickly turned away with his head crashing into his raised elbow. "Huh'ItcshSh! Huh'TcshSH! Huh'ITShSH!"

"Sam, you're sick. You probably have a fever. That's what you're seeing. It's not real," Dean tried to reason.

Sam wasn't having any part of it. The rage that he felt flowed through his veins and someone was going to pay. He wasn't even really sure who it was, but he knew what was going to happen. He lifted the knife so that Dean could see it in the dull light.

Dean took a step forward and Sam sliced the knife across his bicep. Dean let out a surprised growl of pain as blood spurted from the wound. He lifted his fingers to press on it before he turned his attention to his brother. Dean licked at his lips and shook the blood from his fingers. "So that's how it's going to go," Dean grumbled to himself.

Sam stood his ground, but he was not prepared for his brother to barrel into him and that's exactly what Dean did. He took him down hard and Sam's head smashed against the floor. Dean gritted his teeth into worry as he wrested the knife from Sam's hand. It was then that he felt his forehead and realized how much his fever had actually spiked.

"Damnit," he screamed as he rushed to his feet and helped Sam to his. He made sure that Sam didn't lean too hard on his arm to cause him anymore pain. Dean couldn't help but grit his teeth when Sam leaned on him with all of his weight. Not to mention the sniffling every few seconds. 

Dean led him to the bathroom and set him down on the closed lid on the toilet seat. He started the bath before he rushed to the kitchen to find the ice machine. He began to make trips to and fro to the bathroom with as much ice as he could find. He turned the water lukewarm, but to Sam it would be absolutely freezing.

Then, Dean helped Sam up and into the tub with all of his clothes, even his socks. At first Sam just laid there and let the ice and water rush over him. But, suddenly, he shot up and let out a painful scream. He looked around as he tried to rush out of the tub. Dean almost jumped on top of him in an effort to hold his still.

"Hey, hey," Dean chided gently. "What are you doing? It's me."

Sam still looked confused, but at least he seemed to recognize Dean now. He blinked his eyes a few times as his nose ran down his face. "Deadn?"

Dean reached over and grabbed a wad of toilet paper and began to clean up Sam's nose. Sam grumbled and pulled away. "Stop! What are you doing," he complained.

"What do you think," Dean snapped as he finished wiping Sam's nose, despite his protests, and set it aside. "I'm trying to help you."

"Wh-Why is id so code," asked Sam stuffily.

Dean rested a hand in the water. It wasn't warm by any means, but it wasn't cold either. "Sammy, you have a really high fever and I had to get it down. That's why you're in here," explained Dean as gently as possible. "You're okay."

Sam gulped when he noticed the gash on his brother's arm. He gasped and drew away in terror. "I-I did thadt?"

Dean looked at the wound. It wasn't excessively deep, but it would need stitches. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to be strong. "It's alright, Sam. You were having a fevered dream is all."

Sam lifted a hand from the water and started to examine it. He sniffed hard once more as confusion washed over his face. "I-I was back there," he whimpered.

Dean ignored him for the time being as he grabbed another wad of tissue and cuffed it over his brother's nose. "Blow."

Sam huffed in frustration. "I'b dnot a baby," he argued angrily.

"First off I can hardly understand you. Second off your hands are wet so it's up to me. Now, blow," ordered Dean in a voice that left no room for arguing.

Sam grumbled before he blew his nose weakly. Dean cleaned up his face and threw the toilet paper away. "So, feeling any better?"

"Cold," answered Sam as he shifted in the water. "Very cold."

Dean reached his hand over to Sam and touched his forehead. It was warm, but not as warm as before. "Alright, I guess that you can get out as long as you promise to stay in bed."

"Promise," Sam echoed with a vigorous nod of his head.

Dean helped him out of the tub and favored his still bleeding shoulder. He allowed Sam to pull the wet clothing from him while Dean handed him a towel and dry clothing. Once he was partly finished his nose gave a telltale prickle before he lifted the towel and pressed it against his nose powerfully. 

"Huh'ITCsHS! Huh'ITCshShSh! Huh'TcshshsSh!"

"Bless you," exclaimed Dean as he rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Jusdt a bid lightheaded," answered Sam as he took a step sideways and nearly collapsed. Dean helped Sam as he led him toward the bed with Sam dropping the towel in the process.

Dean heaved Sam over to the couch and sat him down. Sam shivered as he blinked his eyes madly as if he was fighting the urge to sneeze again. Dean sighed as he sat beside Sam with the suture kit in front of him. He lifted the needle and thread to his arm and was about to slice it through when Sam spoke up.

"I cand helb," offered Sam.

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Thanks for the offer, Sammy, but I think that I'm good."

Sam leaned back, sniffling madly with his nose twitching like a rabbit's. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth as Dean threaded the needle through his skin. Dean gritted his teeth together as he finished up. Once he was finished he looked over to Sam and saw that he was partially sleeping, or at least pretending to be.

Dean leaned over and nudged his shoulder. Sam awoke with a jolt before he looked back to his brother. "Deadn?"

"Let's get you to bed. I think that it's much more comfortable," Dean suggested as he stretched out a hand toward his brother to help him up. "And then you and I need to talk."


	5. Where To Go From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things with Sam aren’t going to be fixed overnight, but Dean is going to try his best to make things better for his brother.

Once Dean got Sam to bed, he sat on the edge and looked at his sniffling and coughing little brother. Sam looked over at his brother with tears in his eyes as his mouth gaped open. He started to hitch with his body almost thrown forward with the force of the sneezes that ripped from his body.

"Huh'tCSISH! Huh'ItcshsH! Huh'ITcshsH! Huh'TcsihsSHhh!"

Sam had lifted a hand during the fit and cupped it over his nose. He moaned as he looked around with tears now falling from his eyes. "Ugh, Deadn!"

Dean was already on it. He brought the tissues from the nightstand over to his brother and took out a handful. "Lower your hand," commanded Dean.

Sam made a grab for them with his other hand, but Dean swatted them away. "No, Sam," argued Dean with a firm frown as he pulled Sam's hand away from his face to reveal the mess underneath that clung to the underside of his nostrils and down his face. 

Dean started to clean Sam's face up gently with touches from the tissue. Sam sniffled before Dean clamped the tissue over his nose and Sam almost growled in anger. "Blow, kiddo."

Sam complied since he had no other option. He quickly filled the tissue before Dean threw it on the floor and grabbed another one for Sam until he was done. Once they were finished Sam leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Not yet, Sammy," Dean chided as he grabbed Sam's knee and shook it gingerly. "We need to talk first."

Sam looked almost confused as he gazed over at his brother almost in surprise and humiliation at the same time. He hung his head. "Aboud whad?"

"About what's been going on with you," asked Dean.

Sam looked up at he shook his head ever so slightly. "Nodig."

"Dude, I can't understand you again." Dean pushed the tissue box even closer over to him. "Try again," urged Dean.

Sam made a face, just like Dean knew that he would, but took a few tissues out to blow his nose weakly. He clumped the tissue in his fist before he tried to turn as far away from his brother as possible. "Sam, what's been up with you and don't you dare tell me nothing since I know that's not true!"

The guarded look in Sam's eyes returned and for a second Dean didn't think that he would be able to get anything out of him. "Just stuff."

"Just stuff," echoed Dean as he threw his hands in the air. "That gives me absolutely nothing! You have to give me more, dude. Come on. Help me out. I can't help you if you don't help me."

Sam turned to look at him as he started to play with a prominent scar on the palm of his hand. "I just feel like I'm back there," he croaked almost silently.

Dean leaned forward a bit so that he could hear him. "You feel like you're back in Hell?"

"Don't make fun," Sam nearly snarled with his eyes narrowed to deadly slits.

Dean shook his head wild. "No way, man! I was not making fun, trust me. I know all about feeling like that, just not exactly like you do."

Sam didn't say anything as he continued to rub at the scar on his hand. He suddenly started to dig in with his nails in a desperate attempt to draw blood. Dean rushed forward and took his hands in his own before he could manage that. "Sammy. Stop."

"Let be go," Sam yelled.

Dean was suddenly glad that they were in Rufus's house alone and not actually in a motel or someone might think that Dean was trying to murder Sam by the way that he was yelling. "Sammy, I can't let you hurt yourself like that. What are you doing?"

"I need to feel pain," Sam snapped as he desperately tried to pull away from his brother. "That's how I know I'm here! If not then everything falls apart and I can't tell. You seem real, but you were also in the Cage. Lucifer told me I was stupid for thinking that you ever cared about me and that you wouldn't come back for me. Cas wasn't there and they killed me over and over and over again and they tortured us and fought us and used us for their games and amusement and when that didn't work they tried again and—“

Dean couldn't listen anymore. This was the most that Sam had ever spoken about what he had went through. Then again, Sam had been soulless for an entire year, but this was something completely different. This was scary beyond belief and both of them knew it. It was Hell hallucinations and flashbacks like never before. No one came out of Hell unscathed, let alone the Cage with no shit that they had to deal with.

"Sam, look at me," Dean urged when he realized that Sam was crying.

Sam reluctantly tipped his chin up at Dean as Dean continued to squeeze his hands as comfortingly as he knew how. "None of that was your fault and it's over now. You're with me and I'm not going to let anything that bad happen to you again, do you hear me?"

Sam looked at him with a vacant look in his eyes. In fact, it seemed that each of his eyes were going in two separate directions. He was spaced out and breathing funny. "Sam," Dean questioned.

Suddenly, Sam buckled forward in surprise at the force of his own sneeze. He managed to try and lift up his wrist, but Dean still had a hold of them so he ended up spraying Dean's hand. Dean quickly let go of him in the midst of the fit while Sam struggled to regain composure while sneezing into the crook of his arm now and pulling himself as far away from Dean as possible.

"Huh'tcsHsH! Huh'ITcshSH! Huh'TcshSH! Huh'ITcshsH! Huh'ITCshsh! Huh'TcshSH! Huh'TcshSH! Hut'CshSh!"

"Wow, Sammy, are you going for some sort of record," joked Dean as he rested a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam pulled away from him until the fit subsided. He let out a wheezy breath once he was done and Dean pulled out some tissues for him. "Here. You sound terrible," he sighed.

Sam took the tissues and blew his nose with a honking blow. Once he was finished he rubbed upward at his nose and sniffed hard. His eyes turned downcast and blinked his eyes almost in surprise. He looked almost tired once he was finished, but he still wouldn't look at his brother. 

"Sam, can you look at me again," Dean requested.

Sam sniffled a few more times before he looked back over to Dean. "Sorry about your hand," he apologized as he licked his drying lips. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about it," he reassured nonchalantly. "Now, I'm not finished with you. You're going to talk to me and we're going to figure it out."

"It's not something that can be figured out," Sam seethed. "I'm messed up and broken."

"Not to me," Dean replied as he sat beside him. "I mean, maybe a little, but it's nothing that we can't work through. You managed me when I came back."

"You're not as broken as I am," argued Sam brokenheartedly. "You never were."

"We will figure this out. That's a promise," vowed Dean as he squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Are you with me?"

Sam still looked beyond guarded, but he looked to his brother and nodded slowly. "O-Okay."

"We can figure out anything, just the two of us. Do you trust me?"

Sam wasn't entirely sure how to answer it, but he did manage a tiny smile as he coughed painfully into his fist. "Yes," he replied.

"Good! Now, scoot over," Dean snapped as he pushed against Sam's leg. However, Sam was so massive that he was basically dead weight and he hardly moved an inch, no matter how much Dean moved again him.

Sam looked more than confused. "Why?"

"Well, because you're stuffy and miserable and need rest. But, do you remember the only way that I could get you to bed when you were young," inquired Dean.

Sam looked confused as he gazed at his brother. "No."

"Then how about I enlighten you," Dean suggested as he looked on the top of the nightstand and picked up the book that Sam had been reading before he had gone to Hell.

Surprise showed on Sam's face. He instantly scooted over to allowed Dean to sit there. "Ender's Game? But you said that it confused you."

"Oh, it does," answered Dean with a chuckle. "But, it used to make you fall asleep when you were younger and I'm pretty sure that it still works now."

Sam didn't say anything as Dean tightened the covers around him and instantly started to read where they had left off where Ender finally got his own Squad called Dragon Squad.

"Wait," Sam suddenly exclaimed as he tried to push the book away so that Dean had to stop reading.

"What's wrong," Dean fretted.

Sam instantly turned as far away from Dean as possible as he lifted a fist and pushed it against the underside of his twitching and streaming nostrils. 

"Huh'TcshSH! Huh'ItcshSH! Huh'ITcshsH! Huh'TcshSHs!"

"Bless you," Dean whispered as Sam grabbed the tissue box and pulled out a few. He blew his nose weakly when he turned back to his brother, almost snuggling against Dean's shoulder like he had done when he was five. "Ready?"

"Ready," answered Sam in a croak.

Dean started to read again, but this time it was Sam's snores that brought him out of his reading. He looked down to his brother and stroked the top of his messy hair. However, he knew that he couldn't move since Sam was resting so comfortably, but that was fine. He settled against him and closed his eyes as he waited for sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean awoke to someone shaking his shoulders. He looked up and smiled when he saw Bobby standing over him. "Bobby," he whispered before he looked to Sam, who was still snuggling on his shoulder with his mouth gaping open and his nose streaming. "Don't wake up Sam."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Bobby whispered as he looked at the shivering mess of brother next to Dean. "So, how is he?"

"About as good as you would expect," answered Dean with a sigh.

"Meaning?"

"He's broken, but we're going to figure it out."

Bobby gnawed at his lip. "And what if this isn't something that you can fix like a cold?"

"I at least have to try, Bobby," argued Dean as he, once again, ran his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair as Sam mumbled in his sleep. Dean caught something about 'Michael', 'chains', and 'blood', but he had no idea what that meant. If only he could have a small insight into the brain of Sam Winchester.

"I know that you do, son. I will help you and Sam in anyway that I can, but just be careful. I think that whatever is wrong with Sam, this is only the beginning." 

Dean tried to pay Bobby no mind. He cared about Sam and was glad that he was back. He had to help Sam in anyway that he could since that was his fault. He would never give up on Sam. He just hoped that once Sam found out what had happened he wouldn't give up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story and I hope you guys have enjoyed this and are staying safe and healthy!


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